


Farming

by ideas7



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Be patient, M/M, Thomas is coming, guy-man being a rebel, he will arrive, they're like 16/17??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1537454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideas7/pseuds/ideas7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rebellious 17-year-old Guy-Man gets himself kicked out of school and sent to work on his grandparent's farm for the summer. He anticipates months of shoveling sheep crap and milking cows, but he could have never predicted there would be perks in the form of the lanky, awkward and innocent stablehand Thomas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farming

"GUILLAUME!" Guy-Man sighed as he heard his mother’s angered voice bellow from downstairs. _My full name…shit…I’d better prepare for the worst._ He thought to himself and he stubbed out his cigarette against the window ledge he was seated on and flicked away the butt. He rolled his eyes as he jumped down from the window onto his bedroom floor and brushed away a few cigarette ashes which had made their way onto his jeans. _Any second now…_ he thought, making his way to sit on his bed. He had only just sat down when his mother burst into his room, holding a sheet of paper and looking far from pleased.

"Yes mama?" Guy-Man looked up at his mother, smiling sweetly in his best attempt to appear angelic.

"This is the THIRD time Guy! The third time this month!" His mother shouted in response, thrusting the paper she was holding towards him.

Guy-Man took the paper and scanned it quickly. _I wonder which offense this is regarding…_ he pondered as he searched for the description of his crime.

It was a letter from his school. These arrived in the post often, each one the result of a different occurrence in which Guy-Man had breached a school rule. Sometimes, if he was home before anyone else, Guy-Man was able to take the newest letter from the school out of the post box and throw it away before his parents found it… always after reading it and giggling at the memory.

 _Ah, suspected drug dealing on school grounds…whoops._ Guy-Man frowned as he read it. This was a little assumptive wasn’t it? They had no solid evidence that he was dealing at school…even then what’s a little weed in return for a massive bottle of vodka? _That hardly makes me a drug dealer,_ Guy-Man thought.

"Drugs, Guy? Really? Care to explain yourself?" his mother said, still sounding irritated.

His mother’s voice shocked Guy-Man out of his thoughts and he looked up at her, trying his best to look confused and innocent.

“Believe me mama, I would never deal drugs. I’d never do them. I wouldn’t even look at them. Or think about them! In fact what are drugs? I don’t even know…” Guy-Man had always considered himself a good actor, but his mother was not blind to the blatant sarcasm in his voice.

"I don’t know what to do with you anymore, no level of punishment or lecturing seems to get through to that brain of yours." his mother replied, sounding rather defeated.

"There’s only one thing for it mama…" Guy-Man shook his head from side to side, looking at the floor.

"…what’s that?"

"You’re going to have to kill me."

Guy-Man’s mother delivered a sharp smack to the side of his head and then stormed back out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Guy-Man began laughing manically at himself, and lay back on his bed. He composed himself enough to reach under his pillow and pull out the small tin box he hid under there. Opening it up, he pulled out a blunt he had rolled earlier. Putting it to his lips, he fumbled in his pocket for his lighter. Pulling the flame to his blunt, he lit it and took a long drag. Exhaling, he watched as the smoke danced upwards towards the ceiling before disappearing. “ _I would never do drugs mama!_ ” Guy-Man said quietly, mocking himself, before beginning to laugh again.  
  
“Ah, Guy-Manuel! I am truly honoured that you could grace us with your presence today.”

Guy-Man’s history teacher called to him as he tried to sneak into his seat at the back of the classroom, 10 minutes after the start of the lesson. It was going well until he had tripped on a table leg, making a loud noise. His teacher had turned around upon hearing the crash and called Guy-Man out. Guy-Man grunted in response, and flopped down on his chair _. He’s probably just jealous of my flowing mane…_ Guy-Man thought to himself as he eyed his teacher’s unfortunate bald patch which seemed to double in size each day. Guy-Man ran one hand through his shoulder-length brown hair, making a mental note to have a long shower when he got home.

The lesson dragged on for what seemed like a whole day, and Guy-Man was grateful when the class was finally dismissed.

"Apart from you, boy-" his teacher called, pointing directly at him. "-stay behind please."

Guy-Man sighed. _Here we go again…_ He thought as he slowly made his way towards the front of the room.

"Yes?" Guy-Man said, sounding a little too cocky and fed up for the teachers liking.

"That’s yes sir to you."

"Yes? Sir?"

His teacher made no verbal response, but simply handed him a red slip of paper. Guy-Man knew the drill. It was a bad behaviour card, which he was now obliged to visit the head teacher’s office with and hand in, and do his best at explaining himself and apologising. He took the slip and turned to walk out. The feel of the paper was all too familiar. _They should start printing these with my name already on it._ Guy-Man thought to himself as he looked down at the paper. ‘Name: Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo. Reason: Late for class’ it read in his teacher’s scrawny handwriting.

Guy-Man paused for a second as he reached to knock on the door of his head teacher’s office. He wasn’t nervous of facing her, just fed up of the ordeal. _I’ve made my bed…_ He thought to himself as he knocked loudly on the door, three times. He always knocked three times, he’d hoped that his head teacher, Mrs Wells was aware of this, as he felt it was a sort of warning to her, so she could brace herself. Guy-Man smiled at this thought as he entered the room.

"Guillaume." Mrs Wells half said half exhaled, sounding far from overjoyed.

"Mrs Wells…" Guy-Man replied, mocking the woman’s exasperated tone, before plonking himself down on the seat on his side of her desk.

He pushed the red slip of paper towards her seat and sat back, expectantly.

Mrs Wells was standing by her window, looking outside, and not facing Guy-Man. _This is all very dramatic_. Guy-Man coughed gently, reminding her of his presence.

"Guy…-" she said slowly, still not turning around to face him. ‘Guy’ was something she often called him when she was more disappointed than annoyed with him. "-I’ve had enough."

Guy-Man didn’t respond, just sat looking around her office at the various maps on the wall and shelves full of leather-bound books.

"I’m going to have to expel you, Guy. It’s been one thing too many now. I cannot have you as a student at this school anymore." She continued, hanging her head to focus on the window ledge.

"Huh? I…. Huh?" Guy-Man sounded confused, not quite knowing how to respond to this bombshell. He was so use to getting away with everything, used to sweet-talking his way out of messes he had created himself that this news left him speechless.

"But you can’t do th-" Guy-Man started to stutter

"-I can. And I have." Mrs Wells interrupted, sounding deadly serious.

She finally turned around and sat at her seat looking directly at Guy-Man. He looked away immediately, not wanting to meet her eye.

"Guy. Look at me" she demanded, and he obeyed. Guy-Man could see the seriousness in her face, and he felt a wave of shame hit him for the first time ever.

"Merde…" he muttered to himself, looking down to focus on the thumb he was suddenly aware he was picking at.

"I hope you understand this isn’t a spontaneous decision, Guillaume. You’ve had this coming for quite some time and I think you knew that…"

"Yeah." Guy-Man replied, flatly.

"Well it’s up to you and your parents what you do about this now, I can no longer try to help you."

Guy-Man cussed again under his breath. His parents… He’d forgotten about them. Their wrath was sure to be unforgiving.

Mrs Wells continued, “I have to ask you to leave the school premises now, Guy. I really am sorry it has come to this, I was just waiting for that final misbehaviour which you have produced today-” She paused to read the slip Guy-Man had given her “-even if it wasn’t one of your finest.”

Guy-Man half smiled. She was alright, for a head teacher, and her ability to make jokes made lectures about his behaviour almost bearable. He always felt she had a soft spot for him and truly did always want the best for him, which was true.

Mrs Wells then opened a draw under her desk and produced a brown envelope with the words ‘The parents of Guillaume Emmanuel de Homem-Christo’ written on the front and handed it to him. There was something unsettling to Guy-Man about seeing his name like that, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on why.

"Make sure you give that to your parents, Guy." She said, nodding at the envelope in Guy-Man’s hands. He nodded slowly in response, then stood up. After picking up his bag he started walking towards the office door. "Guy…" Mrs Wells said quietly just as Guy-Man reached to open the door. He stopped and turned around, meeting her eye.

"I wish you luck. You’re well behaved at heart…I know you will do well in life." Guy-Man could hear the hint of pain in her voice.

"Thanks…" His voice was the same, he cleared his throat directly after talking to try and hide the fact he sounded like he was going to cry.

"Goodbye, Guy."

Guy-Man left the room as quickly as he could, and as soon as he was clear of the school offices, began running. He didn’t need to visit his locker, there was nothing he wanted to keep in there, just a few old note books and sweet wrappers. He didn’t stop running until he was about 5 minutes away from the school, where he stopped and leant against a wall. Out of breath, he slowly slid down it until he was sitting on the floor.

 _Oh Guy…_ he thought to himself. _You’ve really done it this time._

As Guy-Man sat there, catching his breath and thinking over his situation, he came to the conclusion that he didn’t give two fucks about that school, he had no actual friends per se, just a few people he tolerated enough to talk to and sometimes get high with. He didn’t care about his education as he didn’t care much about himself. The one thing he did care about though was his parents. Mostly his father, who was a lot harsher than his mother. As he stuffed the brown envelope Mrs Wells had handed him into his school bag and took out a packed of cigarettes, he pondered what his punishment would be.

Taking the first drag of his cigarette, Guy-Man remembered being threatened several times with being sent away to his grandparent’s farm somewhere ‘down south’, that’s all he could remember about the place, he’d never visited. His parents said they would make him live there and work on the farm helping his grandparents, and idea of which Guy-Man shuddered at. He hated everything to do with the idea. He began to silently panic. Now he didn’t have a school to go to they may as well send him there… And he would be stuck shovelling sheep crap for the rest of his life.

Guy-Man decided to wonder around the streets for as long as he could, avoiding going home to face his parents. He visited all his favourite places, including a record store where he had spent countless hours looking through box after box of CDs and vinyls. He was enjoying himself, but the idea that this may be his last visit was nagging at the back of his mind, and his thoughts kept trailing back to sheep. He wasn’t even sure if the farm had sheep, but he found them a good scapegoat for all things wrong with the countryside… _Scapesheep_ …he thought to himself, giggling.


End file.
